


Tears

by evilwriter37



Series: Drabble Requests [2]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Crying, Despair, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 07:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Hiccup takes a break from everything to cry.





	Tears

Hiccup couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed curled in a ball waiting for… something. He’d told his friends he was going to nap, but really, he just needed time alone. There was a pent up ball of misery in him, sitting heavy in his stomach and his chest like a chunk of black coal. There was stress, despair, the sensation of being overwhelmed. 

A noise came erupted from him: an ugly, strangled sob. He hadn’t expected it, nor the one that wanted to follow, but he managed to hold that one back. For only a moment. It came out, just as loud and ugly and unwanted as the first one.

Tears followed, salty and tangy and stinging at his eyes. Hiccup wiped at them in frustration, but then he had to do it again and again, wetting his hand and doing nothing to stop the flow. He didn’t want to be crying, but gods be damned the  _ things _ he was going through! He was fighting a war and facing multiple enemies at only nineteen. He didn’t  _ want  _ to cry, but wasn’t he allowed to be upset about that?

And the attacks were relentless. It was like the Dragon Flyers always knew where he was or where he would be. Either they would follow or they would wait for him. He felt like all he was doing anymore was fighting, and sometimes not even fighting for a cause, but just fighting to stay alive, to keep his head above the struggle and  _ breathe. _

Waking each day knowing he had this war to fight was the hardest thing to do. It made it feel like there was a pile of rocks on him, crushing him and holding him down, and he had to lift each one before moving and facing a day that would see more bloodshed before the sun set in the shades of it, bright and unapologetic like it was taunting him.

Hiccup cried under the impossible pile of rocks, and his tears might as well have been red trails down his face, because the thing that stood out the most about all of this: it was his fault. Each time one of his friends was wounded, he was too, because he was the cause of it, even if he hadn’t been the one to hold the blade. He’d been the one to order them into battle. None of this would have happened had he just stayed home on Berk. Berk was safe. It was boring to him, but safe, and safety was more important than his cursed curiosity. His curiosity had gotten them into this, had made them all battle-hardened warriors. 

He’d brought them into war, and now he had to face the consequences, and sometimes those consequences were just hiding from everyone and crying into the emptiness.


End file.
